Does it all come down, at last,
to slipping onto the subway
before the doors shush closed
or not?
To dropping by a bar
for one last nightcap
before the morning flight to Rome?
Such minor divisions
between life and another
The width of a bullet
A hinge
The time it takes a glance to register
or fall way undetected
[Original layout of this poem displayed above, under accesible text]
Based in Boston, Gary Duehr has taught creative writing for institutions including Boston University, Lesley University, and Tufts University. His MFA is from the University of Iowa Writers Workshop. In 2001 he received an NEA Fellowship, and he has also received grants from the Massachusetts Cultural Council, the LEF Foundation, and the Rockefeller Foundation. Journals in which his writing has appeared include Agni, American Literary Review, Chiron Review, Cottonwood, Hawaii Review, Hotel Amerika, Iowa Review, and North American Review. His books include Point Blank (In Case of Emergency Press), Winter Light (Four Way Books) and Where Everyone Is Going To (St. Andrews College Press).